Kings Never Die
by PoolHero
Summary: From the belly of the beast. Through the doors of death. A man crawls back to life, into a world that was once fiction. How does he cope? What is his true aim? Take a seat as we go on the greatest journey of discovery and adventure. Where death and danger lurks at every turn. Are you bold enough to withstand it? Guess we'll find out. SI as Damian Wayne.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: all characters and mentioned universes belong to their respective owners and/or creators.

This is a work of fiction.

'Italics means he is talking to himself /inner voice'

"inverted commas" means a normal conversation.

* * *

 **THE ONE WHO TAMES**

* * *

Fear. It's a powerful weapon. In here they show you true fear, the one that draws primal responses from your literal soul. The hands keep trying to drag you down, the terrain rejects you. You have no option but to succumb, but I haven't. I've been at this, _crawling_ for a while now. Crawling my way from these hands. There is no such thing as fearless, maybe there is but it's not what I am. No, I overcome my fears, I understand that I have them and then I face them. I persevered through unimaginable fears, I trudged through unthinkable resistance. But these hands keep trying to force me to the light. Not a single moment of respite, not one bit of rest. Every moment since reaching this purgatory has been about me avoiding the light. It's cliche isn't it? The light at the end of the tunnel and all that. But even cliches started from somewhere. I was going against nature, I was going against the established laws. I was doing what no living being was supposed to, I went against my fate after death. I died, that's obvious if you've been listening. Why else do you think these hands have been dragging me to the light. Maybe there aren't even hands, maybe this is just how my mind interprets it. Will this be a never ending cycle of me moving against it, and it trying to draw me back. Never once have I gone past five steps. It's always at step five when the hands drag me back, when this field of resistance appears before me slowing me down. It's silent here, no sounds, no voices. Just me, the hands and my defeated fears. In this solidarity I have learned a lot about myself. In this silence I have forged my spirit through the hammer of my adversities. How long has it been? Time doesn't matter here, I try not to think about it. It weakens my will by filling me with self doubting thoughts. All I know is that I don't want to go to the light. I know, it's unreasonable. Who am I to go against the laws? What do I think of myself to not conform to the will of the light? I'm just a persistent ant. I don't matter, no one will ever know if I walk into the light or if I don't. I'm doing this for me. If others cared so much then why don't they join me here. I am just a man going against a mighty wave that keeps pushing me back. The gods must be laughing at me. You don't get to see all these mystical things and not believe in the supernatural. Sometimes I see a cloaked figure silently observe me. It just stands there, doesn't speak doesn't move and then it disappears. But neither do I speak. Words haven't left my mouth since the first moments I landed here. How did I land here? I died. How? That doesn't matter. It's useless to think of it now, when I don't have the time for my thoughts to wander. The moment I let my guard down, the very moment I lose this tension, is the moment I succumb. My mind was as focused as sun rays through a lens. That was something I tempered myself using the resistance of this purgatory. I wasn't born with an indomitable will, I wasn't born with the power to go against this situation. I acquired it by refusing to surrender. I wasn't special in any single way, I just refused to admit defeat, to quit. Because once I do, I would be tossed through the light.

This time was like any other. Me going against the hands and the waves of pressure, the hands trying to bring me to the light. But the hooded figure appeared at the far front of the passage and with it a door opened and a soul came through. For the first time, I saw the hooded figure point to the light behind me. The soul looked at the light and began walking towards it. And it came closer, it was the ghost like figure of a naked child. It glanced at me and nodded, then focused on its path on, it had an expression of nirvana as it walked through the light.

The hooded figure still stood by the door that was beginning to slowly close. It observed me, or was trying to give me a hint –which I didn't miss. I crawled up to my feet and walked towards the door and the moment I took five steps the resistance came and the hands appeared. The door was fifty steps from me, and it was closing. Common sense dictated that I give up, the laws told me to abandon all foolish hopes I had gathered. _I would never succeed_ whispered my situation. But I walked, one foot in front of the other I _walked_ and _walked_ and _walked._ The hands aggressively pulled! The pressure built up to un-withstandable degrees. The terrain turned treacherous. But I _walked_ , doing the only thing my focused mind directed me to. I was a single step from crossing the closing door. The hooded figure turned its head to look at me. All the fears I had ever faced appeared before me, the pressure drove me to my knees, the innumerable hands held me down. The door before me was rapidly closing, no matter what I tried I couldn't stand. I couldn't move. I saw salvation for the very first time, would I just let it slip away? **NO, I WILL NOT.** Strength filled me and I rose, like a chick breaking out from an egg – all the shackles fell off from me, I took a _**step**_ forward. I sensed a smile from the hooded figure the moment before I entered the door. The door led me to a swirling tunnel of concepts at lightspeed, my mind couldn't register the things I saw for they had no definition.

* * *

I fell, memories flashed past my eyes as I fell through a never ending space. In a blink I was here, this was different. This purgatory wasn't the same one I had been to or come from.

A set of dark-red, spiral like tattoos covered the left side of my torso all the way down to my arm. Dressed in red, as thick as blood, was a man holding a mighty sword, he stood facing me. Anger as hot as the fires burning around us, was written on his face.

" _ **You desecrate the natural order**_ "His voice, sharp as the blade he held. He took a stance. The air turning heavy with tension.

I had the feeling, if I lost here I would truly cease to exist, simple as that.

He swings. Instincts kick in and I bend. The sword zooms past. I jump back putting distance between us. My mind races trying to find answers, I push the questions back and _focus_.

He comes in with a downward strike too fast for me to respond to. Arms raised trying to guard myself, _clink_ , the sound of metals colliding as a sword appears in my grasp. Too focused to be surprised but I am jolted. He looks at me like prey, but I don't want to die. The only thing keeping me up is my will to live and my instincts.

Sparks fly as metals collide, the dance of death between us continues. The use of the weapon coming to me naturally, like a well honed skill, a mastered moveset. I let the instincts guide my move. The man's face turns fierce his strikes get harder, he gets faster, his sword becomes invisible. I feel a cold itch across my chest and jump back. My skin parts as blood flows through the deep cut.

Pain was killed off and its elder, meaner brother took over my body. Suffering past anything I had ever felt, my bones were burning with flames from hell, my organs felt dead. My blank mind was flooded with excruciating pain, my wailing body tortured past its limits. My very soul felt the indescribable agony that had me almost paralysed. The anguish from his strike was unimaginable.

He doesn't allow me respite, he lands over cuts on me, shallower this time for I begin to adapt to his pace, his speed. I move faster than I can think, I let my body act, my mind gains the space to think of other things, tactics. He slashes at my unguarded neck, I deflect the blade and pull it with my naked hand, the pain none lesser that what I had felt. He's surprised, I stabbed through his sword arm and pull out a mass of flesh. He closes his eyes as I spit blood at them, my sword is held in a backhand grip, allowing me a stab to his exposed temple. Blood doesn't flow out of his wounds but he drops. And in another blink the scene changes. But I heard a voice, I knew now what happened. I was marked for death, the tattoos would never leave me till the day I truly die and my soul is claimed. The man was,

Azrael–the angel of death. He will come after me till I die, he will make sure the natural order is maintained. Well, he will fail.

* * *

I was feeling again. I regained natural senses. The ones that came with a living breathing body.

I was nearly driven to tears as I felt my air deprived lungs scream out in protest.

I was submerged in a liquid of some sort and I was drowning in it. But something else was in this liquid. An energy that kept flowing, no, rushing into me. It was relentless and aggravating. I felt it's power nurture my tired soul and body, but it was driving me blanc, and I was still drowning.

"Arghh!" I screamed, bursting through the surface of the liquid. My sight turned white. My body felt like it was on fire, and the liquid was feeding that fire, making it burn brighter. Making me scream louder.

I began to run, I didn't know where to. But I wanted to leave this fire. I couldn't see where I was running to. But I could feel the flames subsiding with each step.

And when it did, the piled up exhaustion set in, like a sword going through a twig, I was utterly defeated, and on my knees greedily sucking in air. Just before I blacked out.

…

I was laid on a soft hospital like bed. IVs and drips stuck to me skin. Monitors watching and observing my situation were spread out through the well decorated and brightly lit room. My eyes were clear, I was quiet because I've been trying to make sense of the revelations I came to. This body was that of a young child's, a six year old boy's to be specific. And the woman standing next to me, was his mother. Her name, Talia al Ghul. I know, it sounded like the name of a character from fiction. But from the fractured memories I gained, fiction was the reality. This world was one of magical beings and flying men. This world was one where the dead resurrected from bathing in magical waters as was my case. And my home was now a place called the League of Assassins.

I wasn't livid, I was shocked dumb. The joy from being alive was the one thing holding me together. I had no reason to scream or panic, I wound gain nothing from such acts. After all the time I spent clawing my way from purgatory, fighting an angel of death and getting a body. I was quite satisfied with my current situation of once again being alive.

I felt the warmth of fingers, smoothly tracing the dark-red, spiral tattoos that covered the left side of my chest, forming a sleeve as it went all the way to wrist of my left arm – the mark of death. It followed me from the battlefield where I won my life to reality.

"Truly fascinating marks" She commented.

"The pit restored you to the best of its capabilities. Be proud to have cheated death, my little one." she brought her hand to rest on my head.

"Although you may have failed the test, you'll just have to make up for that my precious, won't you?" She said with a loving smile. A smile, owners had when they look at their favorite toys, or maybe she really does care. I can't fully tell, but I'm not optimistic.

"I will indeed…mother" I replied. Damian always referred to her as mother.

The test she was referring to was one where the previous occupant of this body was to scale a mountain with his bare hands. He slipped, the blood from his torn fingers caused him to lose his grip. And he fell from a height of 355 feet, he didn't survive from. He was also impaled by jagged rocks that littered the base of the mountain. And he died with a smile. He was happy to be free of all the chains on him. He was just still a child, no matter how they forced his mind to mature, he was just a child.

The boy had gone through too much torture in the name of training. It had significantly altered his psych, all to gain the validation from his mother and to learn of his father. She promised him the name of his father should he complete all the ' _tests'_ necessary to mould him into a new world ruler.

What I saw, was a woman making a child soldier in the image of batman. I had read works of fictions, who hasn't? Comics were one of my favorites, and Damian's origins was one of the many parts of the batman storyline I read of. He, no, I, was born when Talia al Ghul seduced batman. In some books drugs were involved and in others it was batman giving in to passion.

Damian was genetically perfected and grown in an artificial womb, he was created to be the perfect warrior king, trained from the moment he began to walk, meant to kill and replace the bat. And to become the inheritor to Ra's al Ghul's legacy. This was a child, created to be human perfection personified. But we all know how that went. And I was now in his body, I will never be able to have a peaceful life. Even if I escaped from the league of assassins, Ra's will never let me go. And then there was batman's side of things. Oh, to top it off was the mark on me. It would always draw death towards me, it's the price for my freedom. So to sum it up, I was quite fucked.

* * *

The vibrant rays of sunlight shot through the sparse balls of clouds. The songs of birds and cries of insects were in harmony with the fresh morning breeze.

I was dressed in simple athletic shorts and a gym shirt. It's been two days since the rebirth. And today I would have to scale the mountain again.

"Remember, Damian. It's all in the mind, belive it and you can achieve it.

Failure is unacceptable, if you fall again you will truly stay dead." she tapped my head and then turned around to leave.

"You have 12 hours" she added.

I stood at the base of the rocky mountain and raised my head to catch a glimpse of its sharp summit, covered in a thin layer of fog. This seemed stupidly unbelievable, this was absolute madness. I didn't have any sense telling me I could do it. All I knew was that I had to do it. There was no other option. The weak are culled here in the league of assassins. There is no place for weakness. If I didn't do this, I would end up dead. There was no deus ex machina to give me strength. All I could bank on was the enhanced physiology of this body, and my increased life force that provided me with greater stamina.

Well, this mountain wasn't going to climb itself.

I stuck my hands into the natural grooves and crevices of the steep rock face and began my ascend. You'd notice that I had no tools on me, I was bare handed and without any other apparatus but the clothes on my back.

Inch by inch, step by step, I slowly ascended. When it was midday, I knew six hours had passed. The intense rays of the sun caused my body to sweat more than appreciated, and made the rockface a scalding hot platform. The strain of supporting my body was relieved by periodic breaks I would take to get blood flowing back to my burning limbs.

My nails were cracked and my fingers burned as did my toes. I had to watch my breath, and keep it in constant rhythm. The oxygen was getting thinner. And then there was also the loose rocks, the death traps that would come off when used as a handhold.

….

Did you know, your limbs could become so exhausted that you barely felt them anymore. I just did. And the wind slapping against me didn't make this climb any easier. I don't know why, but slippery moss covered the higher terrain of the rockface. And it burned when it came in contact with the raw flesh of my injured fingers. But the moss contained fluids that provided the water I so desperately needed. I would scrape up as much as I could using only my mouth and squeeze the bitter, sandy liquid out of the moss mass using my tongue against the roof of my mouth. And spat out the drained plants. I kept this cycle up till my thirst reached a manageable degree, when I say manageable I mean when the burn and dryness at the back of my throat didn't feel like hard sandpaper anymore. It now felt like soft sandpaper scraping against it. Giving me a soft but irritating itching sensation.

The sun was setting, the environment was getting darker and colder. The thin clothes couldn't protect me from the natural elements.

Evening was about to take over the atmosphere. I probably didn't have much time left.

I was an arms length away from the summit. I could see my final destination, the goal of my climb. The apex of the mountain. I wanted to relax, but I knew that that was the most suicidal thing I could do. The moment I relax and lose the tension when my goal was so close to me, I would, without doubt, fall.

But to reach the summit I would have to jump. The rock face was deliberately smoothened out. There were no crevices, no grooves, no handholds. Not even moss or grass. It was bare and smooth. My shoulders were shaking as were my legs. My back felt dead now. The punishment my body was withstanding was one it shouldn't have to at such an age.

I would have to jump and grab onto the edge of the platform. If I was taller, or larger then it could have been easier but this was the body of a small child. The jump I had to perform was taller than my height, and the cliff face was very vertical. I slowly and steadily took off my shirt, the cold winds caressing my skin causing me to shiver.

Positioning myself for the jump that would decide my fate, I took a deep breathe and steeled myself.

"Ragh!" I shouted and lunged. Everything was going slower as my perception became sharper. I whipped the shirt held securely in my hands onto the cliff edge. Directly on the steepest part of the edge. I felt weightless for a moment before a pull held my body in place. The shirt was lodged on the protruding part of the platform. Which was _conveniently_ beginning to crack, it couldn't support my weight. It was breaking, rapidly. With every bit of strength I could muster, I pulled! Altering my center of gravity by tucking in and flipping over, making use of my body's sense of balance and acrobatic prowess. I smashed face first into the rocky surface of the platform, my arms were too dead to break my fall. I hungrily stuffed my lungs with air, ignoring my bruised forehead and bleeding nose. Adrenaline in my system wearing off and the consequences of my actions, slamming into me like a speeding truck.

An elderly man with a tall, straight stature and sharp brows approached my fallen form. His every move was refined and regal. His gait orderly and his arms held behind his back, he observed me. I felt bare as his sharp gaze roamed over my tired, bruised and cold body.

"Well done. Damian, as expected of one who shares of my lineage" he spoke boldly.

"Thank you Grandfather." I said keeping my almost cracking voice monotone and stable.

He turned around and gestured for me to follow him.

 **/X/**

" _There is only one way to rule the world, and that way is to understand and master the many facets of arts in life._ _I expect nothing less than complete mastery, Damian. For you will come to realize, there is nothing impossible to achieve when the mind and body work in harmony_."

Those were the words of Ra's al Ghul, still lingering in my mind. Because you see when he said that, my real training began.

Fighting vicious beasts in their own jungle habitats with nothing but bare sticks. Going shark hunting without breathing gear, and killing a great white with a knife.

Mastering various musical instruments and artistic expressions on paper using blood. Getting various academic accomplishments.

I should say this now, I was never a genius. In all the two lives I had lived, I was never a genius. All I accomplished was through putting my nose to the grind. But learning now, was easier than it had ever been. It might be because of the malleability of a child's brain, the increased life force and my actual mental maturity, or the work of my excellent teachers.

Of course all of my teachers concerning most of the arts and sciences were kidnapped prominent men and women. I could never bond with them, when they were always shaking and on the verge of tears when not busy teaching me.

All for this moment. four years of constant unrelenting torture, four years of nearly going mad, I was not the same person I once was. After going through all that, you never come out the same. It turns you into a sociopath with no regard for human life.

I don't know if the original Damian had gone through what I had. Ra's was very interested in me, he said I was _le chosen one_ heh. Because of the marks I had on me, and he upped the training each time, and each time he did, I would succeed and pass said training. Death was a very good motivator, I didn't want to meet her so soon. The increased life force in me helped with my survivability, it wasn't extraordinary, but it was above the human average.

And on every eve of my birthday, I would proceed to run through a convoluted obstacle course and fight my mother, who would continue to kick my ass blue and to the ground, but it was better than sparring with Ra's, that man had no mercy. But even I could tell of the results of my training, I was improving, rapidly so, becoming the perfect killing machine.

I was in a full body black combat suit with white highlights, red torso and knee paddings, flexible gauntlets with spiked knuckle dusters. A slim parachute pack hung over my back and clear round goggles protected my eyes. I stared at the icey white landscape through the open doors of the jump plane. The sound of the wind deafeningly loud as the aircraft cut through the air at 12,000 ft above ground level.

I took a deep breath and monitored my heart beat, adrenalin pumping in my veins. With a step, I fell out the door.

When you're falling at terminal velocity, it feels like time comes to a stop as you cut through cold currents of air and clouds.

Above me, dots of black begin to appear. I glide left and right, dodging the whizzing bullets. It reminded me of the lessons.

 _*_ _ **FLASHBACK**_ _*_

The day after I climbed the mountain, I stood in a spacious training hall. I was armed with a single sword and a black training suit.

"Today, my darling son, you will learn to avoid and deflect bullets" Talia said with a smile. At the end of her words, men in training suits but with masks came through the doors with automatic rifles held in their grips.

"Woman are you insane? Are you trying to kill me?" I couldn't hold my tongue, I know I shouldn't have questioned her, but how the hell was I supposed to dodge and/or deflect bullets without any prior 'bullet dodging' training. I just climbed a mountain for goodness sake, I deserved rest.

"My dear, if you can't survive this then you don't deserve to be the successor. Nothing is impossible my child, and you will soon find out. Show me you have the strength, the willpower to do what is necessary"

I watched as gun nozzles sparked and I ran, I should have paid more attention because I ran right into a bullet that tore through my shoulder. It felt cold at first as the bullet pierced through my flesh, then came the searing heat and suffering. A warm stream of blood began to flow down my arm. This was the first time I've ever been shot. In both of my existences. It's nothing like the movies.

"Watch the nozzles Damian, see their trajectories. Put your math to use and run the calculations. Don't just react in panic, calm down and think. Let the mind and body work in tandem" she guided me. And I listened.

I dodged, I rolled and I turned with sharp movements, and when a bullet from a nozzle positioned with a telegraphed trajectory to hit my head, flew at me. My hand moved as fast as it could, I felt the world slow down as my perception once again increased, my hand was moving at a snail's pace and the bullet was meters away from me. With my hand in the right place, I positioned the blade to a tilt.

 _Clang!_ The sword vibrated as the bullet clashed against it, altering its path of travel. I felt it cut through strands of my hair as it traveled inches above my head. Cold sweat soaked the back of my shirt. My breath sharp and fast, my body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me and the feeling that comes as a result of escaping the cold hands of death and blood loss.

"Good, you truly are his son. You make me proud my child." she sounded pleased, and relieved(?) "Get ready, Damian. We go again"

 _ ***FLASHBACK ENDS***_

I unholsetered the semi's strapped to thighs. With my fingers on the trigger, I turned around, opening my form, and let the air resistance cushion me.

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

The recoil of the guns minimized by my posture, but the kickback still gave me this buzzing like sensation in my arms.

I watched as the bullets tore through foot ninjas, blood mists formed.

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

 _BRRATTA! BRRATTA!_

 _Click click_

They learned their lessons and separated, but they might have been underestimating my aim. I mowed them down to a half of their original numbers. I felt no remorse, it's either kill or be killed. The only time I felt remorse was the time it also died, and that was when I killed Jack.

I threw the now empty guns and went in for a close combat.

I glided towards the one closest to me and pushed his arm that held the sword to the side, disrupting his swing.

 _Squishkk_ the short blade in my grasp went through the ninjas eye and lodged in his skull. Five others began to converge on me. I pulled the chute trigger of the one I stabbed in the eye. The now arriving five were trapped by the chute fabric like fishes in a net.

With swords now in my hands, I fought an air battle with the ninjas.

 _Slice—_ Metal met fleshly resistance, metal won and flesh gave way. Body parts came off, blood is sprayed. Limbs and organs paint the air, Heads fly, they are liberated off of bodies. I feel I'm in my domain, my instincts allowing me to meld all extraordinary senses seamlessly together with my actions. Every move of mine is precise and accurate — every slash spells death, every stab is mortal. I am ruthless, I am merciless, they cease movement and weakly flop in the air—dead.

I keep telling myself that I do all this just to survive, but my heart beats faster than it ever has. I felt alive in this battle, I am born again of blood. I am remade anew. This is who I truly am, I am a survivor who makes it to the end. A warrior king who thrives in battle. In this moment I am unstoppable. As simple as that.

I pull my chute trigger.

 _ **SWOomp**_ _!_ The force of wind pulls me up, forcefully decreasing my inertia. I gradually descended. I pulled the pack off of my back, 16 feet in the air and land in roll, the thick snow carpet further cushioning my fall.

Four last ninjas also descend. I threw the sword through the neck of the first one to land. The other three draw their weapons and attack.

I parry the first two, and roll again to dodge the third. I swipe the blade low delegging the third and stab him through the head in a swift motion. The remaining two rush at me, I kick snow up at their eyes, they blink. And when they realize their mistake, "Urgh!" "Arghh!" they have swords through their chests.

I began to jog to my destination, keeping my senses open and active.

The distinct crunch of show was different from the rest. I could attribute it to the landscape, but I knew better than that. Slowly brushing the top layer of snow off, I could see the circular pressure triggered explosive. This was now a minefield trap.

The only light I had was the one from the moon, I had to make more use of my auditory senses here than sight.

There was no need to rush. But nothing would be that easy when it came to league.

 **Vrrrrmm**!

The sounds of engines were nearing my location. They should be light machines judging by the terrain and sound of their engines.

I began setting up a trap. And waited.

When they approached close enough I could make out six snowmobiles, two ninjas boarded on each. All of them carrying swords, except the drivers. They probably had maps on the location of the mines.

 **BOOM**!

The first two snowmobiles in the lead went up in flames. I had rearranged the mines I could lay my hands on. It was always beyond terrifying. But I had been trained for such scenarios.

The impact force from the explosion caused a third to veer from its path and right into another mine.

 **BOOM**!

The three snow mobiles fanned out, moving through the snow in specific patterns and paths as to not trigger any mines.

I watched my steps, claiming my heartbeat and thinking about the next placement of each and every step. Emulating the movement pattern of the snow mobiles.

The machines roared and sped at me.

The fastest was focused on me, for a collision course. I stopped running and took a hard bank to the left, avoiding a sword swipe.

That put me directly on to the path of another mobile speeding at me. I put strength into my legs and flipped forward.

Slashing my sword down with added momentum, through the driver's head, who was busy staring at my suspended form.

The bike flipped over on its side, sliding on the icy landscape until it came to stop.

 **BOOM**! Right on a landmine.

The two others slid around to a stop. Headlights on me, both began revving their engines.

 **Vrrrm! Vrrr Mmm!**

I pointed my sword and assumed an attack posture. I focused. My grip on my sword tightened. My eyes adjusted, my breathing calmed.

They surged at me, kicking up a cloud of snow behind them. My feet moved and I dashed towards them.

I drew back my sword, my muscles went taut, I aimed, exhaled and threw the sword.

 _Shuunck_ The flying piece of metal pierced through the neck of the driver and halfway through that of the passenger.

I slid through the snow with my knees bent forward and my upper body the opposite direction, fully evading a sword strike aimed at my midsection. I dug my fingers into the snow, slowing my momentum and jumped backwards. Meters away from a buried mine.

The snowmobile skid to a sharp stop and curved around to face me. The drivers eyes widened in surprise, the hard spiked soles of my boot met his masked face. Both fell off the impact and inertia. The bike drifting off into the distance.

I watched my steps, and quickly closed in on the driver.

 _Crunch!_ My fingers bent to a half fist, struck the defenseless neck of the fallen ninja crushing his windpipe. His mangled face twisting in pain as he coughed up blood, mucus and his life.

The other came in with a downward swing. I sidestepped. Grabbed and pulled his arm. Tugging him forward, his nose bridge collapsed when in came into contact with my forehead. He reel in pain.

 _Crack_ My knee viciously fell on the elbow of his grabbed arm, bending it backwards. The sword fell. I held his head in place and twisted.

 _Crackk_ it hung limply to the side, his beating heart slowing to a crawl. I dropped his body and grabbed his sword.

I stared at the last survivor, the one stabbed halfway through the neck. My balde came down, his heart stopped. I flicked the blood off.

Grabbing another sword, I holstered both blades and climbed the snowmobile.

 **/X/**

The headless body fell to the floor. Blood pooling around it. Joining the rest of bodies that littered the corridor. That was the last of zealots. I kicked open the wooden doors and stepped forward.

I walked atop stone steps and climbed a circular platform.

Talia stood a distance away facing me.

"You have learned much son, more than your grandfather and I thought possible at so young an age" she smiled.

"I learned from the best mother. But today, mother, today I will defeat you" I took off the goggles. Moved my tense neck side to side.

"My love. Such words of confidence, show me the Strength behind them" she drew out a single sword. As did I.

"HAI!" we rushed at each other. _Clang!_ A too familiar song of metal rang through the hall.

 _Clank! Clang! Clang!_

We danced to the rhythm of our blades.

Sweat rolled. Breaths turned foggy. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Our endurance was put to the test. Our resolves brought to bare.

She stabbed and she struck, she was merciless. Cuts accumulated on my body.

And I gave back as much as I received.

She had the advantage of height, I had the advantage of speed.

 _Thud!_ My jaw stung, salty cobalt filled my mouth. _Whoosh_ I shot my head back inches away from a lashed boot strike.

 _Clang!_ I parried a straight stab. My heels swept at her feet. She jumped. Transitioning to a handstand, I sprang off the floor like a loaded spring, both feet digging into her abdomen.

"Oohff!" She exhaled and in a fluid motion, utilized the momentum to perform a backflip while airborne, widening the distance between us.

I couldn't let her breathe. I dashed at her, her hands flickered. I waved my sword _clank!_ Shurikens embedded themselves into the walls. She gained valuable seconds of recovery.

 _Clang!_ I parried. "uh!" a hidden blade dug through the flesh of my side.

She smiled, _clang!_ I struck. "Ptui"I spat at her eyes. She jumped back. The trick failed.

"You're making me proud Damian."

The sword was held in a backhand grasp. I swung. She blocked it. The hidden blade appeared again. My left hand shot out. The cold blade parted the flesh of my open palm. I gripped her fist and pulled. She unhanded the hidden blade and drew back her hand. Escaping my pull, my backhand swung again. She parried.

The sword flew through the air, I had released it. I went under her overshot parry. I stabbed deeply into the muscles of her thigh with the blade still lodged in my palm. She limped, I shot accurate punches at her open abdomen. "Ugh!" She grunted in pain. Her sword arm shot down, I tucked into her personal space. My hands gripping the thumb of her sword hand. I pulled, the sword dropped. And so did fist strikes to my face with the force of a hammer. The left side of my face swelled up. My hands wrapped around hers and my feet around her neck in a triangle hold. I flipped us both over, slamming into the hard floor. I applied more pressure. Her eyes watered.

She whipped back her free arm and clawed at my face. She then struck my kidneys with body shots that drove the air out of me. She tucked her knees under her and pushed herself off the ground. I was still applying the hold. I knew she was going to slam me down. I punched at her temple over and over. Her eyes sharpened.

"Ha!" She exhaled and swiftly raised her upper body high and prepared to drop me hard. I loosened my legs and shifted my weight, and turned to wrap them around her back. This was the advantage of a featherweight like mine. I could easily transition. She anticipated it. Her hands latched on my head and shoulders and she pulled! I was momentarily suspended before my back slammed hard into the platform. "Cough!" ' _Hello ground, meet lungs'_

I endured and rolled evading a hard stomp aimed at my stomach. Doing my best to breathe. I whipped a kick at her injured thigh. "Ugh" my kick hit the exact spot I had stabbed her at. She involuntarily fell to on a knee.

She snapped her head to the side, a sword was pointed at her neck.

"Happy birthday Damian. You win" even in torn up clothes and bleeding she had a beautiful smile.

"I know, mother." I stated simply. I wasn't any better than she was. The left side of my vision was darkening due to swollen eyes.

"You truly make me proud my love. You are great my child, nothing less or short of it" she said with a proud tone.

I couldn't help but smile, a warm fuzzy feeling brewed when she said that.

Who doesn't like a compliment? Especially one from their parents, even if those parents were stone cold assassins.

"Of course I am" I replied. Look, I deserve the damn arrogance I said that with. **I am** _ **that**_ **confident.**

"You have succeeded in all your trails, Damian. We shall meet your grandfather for your ceremony. A new age has come. People will see your greatness, you will be a giant amongst men my love. It's your destiny to rule" she stared into my eyes and she spoke each word with 100% belief in them. _Oh my_.

* * *

 ***BOOM! HAHA. Insane innit? Well ladies and gents there you have it. This story right here is crazy. I actually left secret hints in other stories about it. How many of you found it? No worries.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.**

 **I'll post chapters soon for all my other stories. The man has been busy is all, I have not abandoned them.**

 **Hit that like, fave and follow switch to show some love (** _and support the story. While motivating me *wink wink*_ _ **)**_

 **I hope you all have a spectacular weekend.**

 **Till we meet again.**

 _ **Hero out~**_

 **VICTORY!***


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: all characters and mentioned universes belong to their respective owners and/or creators.

This is a work of fiction.

'Italics means he is talking to himself /inner voice'

"inverted commas" means a normal conversation.

* * *

 **POWER**

* * *

I had a fractured arm. Some broken fingers, bruised ribs, a bleeding back and chest from a deep sword slashes. My legs still ached from kicks I had received. Most likely torn muscles. My nose was bleeding, my vision was mildly blurry and my clothes were in tatters.

Overall I was still in a good condition. Yes, for me this was good when considering my opponent.

My opponent had many shallow cuts and bruises. No broken bones, a deep cut above his eyes and an ultra rare grin I was seeing for the first time on his face.

Ra's AL Ghul looked at me with a smile. Because for the past three minutes this man went all out and held nothing back. He 110% tried to kill me. He told me so himself. And he proved it.

"You have no hesitations, you have no mercy. You have shown me the strength of your will, and indeed your resolve is firm and solid. Congratulations on passing the last trial, Damian. Not only have gained victory and you have not failed me" He spoke.

"Thank you grandfather. I endeavor never to fail" I wiped blood off of my nose. _I never said you tho._

"Good" the smile disappeared like it was never there to begin with. His expression turns to the stoic regal one it usually is. "Focus Damian. What I'm about to teach you is what I have taught no other and will never teach another. For they will all be undeserving of it. You however have proven your worthiness."

Three zealots walk into the the combat room.

"Are you prepared?"

"Yes grandfather" I nod. This was the part where I got my reward, which was going be a secret technique he has never taught anyone else, I wonder how scary it would be.

"This is the stone palm." he extends his palm outwards, but his hand looks like it's shaking in a certain manner, no it looks stable but with tiny vibrations.

He taps his hand over the chest of the first zealot. "Uhkk-!" the zealot falls over, blood trickling down his lips, his heart beat stops but there very minuscule movements that only a trained eye will spot. But he is dead…technically.

"It causes commotio cordis, the disruption of the heart's rhythm. You can use it to instantly kill permanently, or temporarily" once again his hand taps on the chest of the second zealot. The second zealot falls, but there is no blood on his lips. He is dead, I can hear his heart beat cease. And the first one who was just bleeding rose from the ground, his heart back to normal beats.

The art of killing is one mastered by Ra's. He's terror incarnate, every thing is a weapon to him.

"Show me what you have learned" he gestures to the third zealot. This is what I _love_ about the league. They don't even ask, they demand. You either swim or sink.

I calm my breath and refocus on what I have witnessed. The arm performs micromovents in certain sequences as it is stretched out making it look like it's almost shaking.

My plam gently hits the chest of the third zealot who drops. And then back to the first. Who collapses.

Seconds later the third rises with a blood trickling down his lips and the first zealot remains dead.

"Exellent, Damian." Ra's praises me with a pleased tone.

He flicks his hand and the head of the third zealot flies off. Secrets must be kept, even I understand that.

I look at my hands, these Littles hands have been forged into deadly weapons. I may not be prepared for whatever comes my way, but I can damn sure put up a fight for my life. I can never slackoff, if I do then it could spell my end, I have been marked for dead. I will acquire more skills and ways to preserve my life. I can not and will not leave my fate in the hands of another.

* * *

There's glory in red. I say that not to sound romantic, but to explain the sights before my eyes.

In the deepest most secret places of the league of assassins, the devils gathered.

Fires burned with green wispy trails, but even the fires were conquered by the red. Only the trusted and most esteemed are allowed in these halls.

My steps are orderly and steady. With each step I take, I ascend the red stairs. Men, zealots and most trusted servants. Stand on either sides, as statues do.

 **Bhmm**! They pound their chests with closed fists for each step I climb.

 **Bhmm!** The sound resonates in this otherwise silent stony chamber.

 **Bhmm!** The sound continues, like a steady beating heart.

On a raised platform which is above my own. Rests a red globe of the planet earth. Continents are drawn on it. Ra's Al Ghul stands on that platform and he looks down, his gaze is focused on me. His shadow forms the outline of a devil with horns on the walls of the chamber.

A rectangular fabric is suspended from the platform. A name is written on the banner.

It spells. DAMIAN AL GHUL.

Below it, is an oroboros snake in an infinity symbol.

I walk up to my platform. Ra's stretches out his hand. The drummers begin pounding.

 _Boom boom boom_.

It sounds like the heartbeat of a dragon.

I feel the beat on my skin. I feel it in the air.

My mother walks towards me with a bowl in her hands. She dips her fingers in it and draws it out. The fluid is as red as the chamber. It has a strong iron scent. It's blood, but not human.

She rubs it over my eyes. It's a mask of blood.

She hands the bowl to the servants. I spread out my arms. My marks are in full display, they standout even in such a place. They look bloodier.

My mother slots gold bracelets over my arms.

 _Boom! boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!_

The beats get louder, the rhythm increases. It is building up to a crescendo.

Everyone kneels. My mother walks behind me and drapes a cloak over me. It is black, with pure gold edges. It feels too comfortable, like it was made for my existence.

And the hood of the cloak is pulled over my head.

 _ **Boom! boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!**_

The sight before is as awe inspiring as it is scary. The burning flames are reflected on my eyes. I feel something stirr in me. It clicks into place satisfyingly. I feel born again. I feel remade. This is my rite of blood and I welcome it. This is part of my legacy. I can never abandon it.

These are my soldiers, this is all mine and I will take rightful rule over it, in due time. I am not the child that died, that person is dead. I am Damien Wayne al Ghul, the son of the Bat and the child of the demon. And I will make full use of my resources and abilities to ensure that I survive and come out on top. And if my actions benefit the world, well guess that's a bonus then. And if it doesn't, well tough luck for earth.

Selfish? Maybe a little. Have you seen the powerful beings in DC? I'm just human, my survival is number one priority.

I'm sorry, I'm not some delusional manga influenced bastard who thinks the world is all sunshine and rainbows. I have no plot armor. If I did, I would be reborn as the joker instead. Have you seen that guy's plot armor? It's so thick, you'd mistake him for the hero.

"Damian al Ghul. You are the heir of the demon. You are the pride of my league. All I have is yours. You will lead this world into a better age. You will save humanity. You will bring victory to mankind." the booming voice of Ra's resonates loudly. The implications of his words hammering into my very heart. _Oh boy_ , I never thought I'd be a version of Jesus. He who wears the crown must bear the weight. Then, so be it.

* * *

Golden rays of sunlight shone down on my al Ghul armor, the armor consisted of intricate golden patterns designed on dense but lite protective plates threaded together over a full body black combat suit. My hooded cloak pulled back, bringing the full compound to view.

After my morning training and spars, I was obligated to appear here and observe what would be mine. It became part of my daily routine after the ceremony, which was three weeks ago.

"This is your legacy, it is all your inheritance, Damian. You must never forget" Ra's al Ghul reminded me. He was dressed in a larger version of the al Ghul armor, his posture straight, his gaze forward.

"Yes, grandfather" I spoke, looking ahead.

From the corner of my eye I saw my mother standing with her gloved arms folded over the green protective vest a top her black combat suit, with a grin.

The air was tranquil. The clouds lazily floated past the twin green mountain peaks, which stood high above, on either sides of the sectionated compounds. The periodic shouts of the practicing warriors below us did nothing to offset the feeling of natural calm. The breezing musical tunes of the zither adding to the serenity.

It was too tranquil. I felt an almost unnoticed sensation flash through my death marks. It was unsettling.

The sensei walked steadily onto the platform. His cane held in the grasp of his bony slender fingers, wrapped in old wrinkled, leathery skin. His flowing beard as white as the sparse hairs in his bald head. If Ra's was ferocious, the sensei was Sinister hidden behind a grandfatherly look. I never liked him, but I made sure to keep my thoughts to myself.

When you're trained in the art of killing to mastery. There's a sixth sense your body hones, some call it instincts. This sixth sense is able to identify intents released subconsciously by others. Such as when someone is about to stab you in the back. The sixth sense is there to protect you, it is very easy to dismiss your instincts as nothing but unfounded worries. Trained individuals however, know to never doubt their instincts. So when my instincts screamed at me to turn around. I did so instantly with my sword drawn.

 _Clank!_ Sparks fly as a bullet aimed for my back is deflected to the side by my sword. I whip shurikens at the paper walls behind us.

 _Shuck! Shuck!_ The sound of metal stabbing through flesh is heard and blood seeps out from behind the walls.

 _Clap!_ Ra's holds the sensei's sword sandwiched between his palms "Oldman, you dare betray me!" Ra's yells in anger at the sensei. "Talia, take the boy"

She nods in agreement and grabs my hand, we leap off the platform and skid down stone tiled roofs. Assassins with red headbands begin to show themselves amongst the league ninjas. The loud wind chopping noise of blades slicing through air fills the air. Helicopters appear on the horizon.

Bullets from machine gun fire tore through sections of the compounds, rending flesh and bones of the fighting ninjas, blades of the traitors collides with those of the loyalists. Missiles rain down on the compound, blasts of fires cook the flesh of the unlucky, shockwaves destroy bodies and infrastructure around us.

The weapon systems of the compounds obviously compromised, taking away the power behind the modern array of weapons we have and the proper force to mount defences. This was a well planned attack.

The Blackhawks approach and hover over the compound, wires descend from the vehicles and down them, we'll armed soldiers.

Assault rifles trailed on the ninjas pour out a barrage of bullets. The ninjas fight back with their own weapons. But for every gun welding soldier they take down, two more ninjas drop dead.

The ninjas resort to steel tipped arrows for long range attacks. Although not as effectively efficient as bullets, it's sufficient.

"Mother, I'm heading to the terminal center, I can get the weapons back online" she looks deep into my eyes, and nods giving me her approval.

"I'll lead the offensive here." she answered drawing her guns. "Damian, I trust you can achieve it, the survival of the league depends on you. Get the job done well, like you always do" and with those words she ran ahead, her guns singing a deadly tune, creating third eyes in the foreheads of the invading soldiers.

I ran the adjacent direction, slicing through obstacles that blocked my path.

I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't use my meta knowledge on plots. If you missed the part where the sensei betrayed us well let me explain it to you. This isn't a movie or cartoon world. This is reality, it doesn't follow a specific "plot" made for the entertainment of others, down the line you'll get to see so yourself. The only useful meta-knowledge that I have, are those on secret identities, locations of useful resources, equations and places. And I don't know if they would even translate to this reality. Because as you can see, this is reality, not a game. There isn't an mc, everyone lives their lives as the central character to their own stories. Maybe this is just a world closely related to what I once knew as fiction. Discarding that, DC comic timelines and realities are so jumbled up that you'd have better luck finding a needle in the ocean, than fully mapping it out.

…

"Urk!" the assassin dropped on the wooden floors, dead, joining his teammates. I flicked my sword getting rid of the blood on it. The weapons interface terminal wasn't just disabled it was trashed and busted. Meaning I would have to get down and dirty and do something close to hot-wiring it, well until the wires burn out from an unregulated load. I ripped out the broken screen of the interface, a bundle of multicolored thread-thin wires came into view. This was going to take too long fix. But I didn't need to fix it. All I had to do was get the weapons running.

I began by stripping out the insulation from sparking wires, connecting the leads to places they needed to be connected to. Coiling wires together, and when I was done I looked at the Frankenstein of a wiring I had made. My tutor would be proud...in his grave. I touched the final leads together and after a momentary silence the green lights came on.

The weapons would keep firing till it ran out of artillery or till the wires burnout. The targeting system wasn't fully functional, it was like aiming with a crooked gun. But it would do, the targets were concentrated and we had some heat seeking missiles. 1+1=2. You get the point. I could already hear the explosions.

I made my way up the steps. Reaching the higher levels, the exit appeared before me. So did three people.

"Ygh!" "Aghh!" I silently jumped back, ducking behind a pillar, hiding. I looked out down below.

Ra's was on his knees, profusely bleeding, he had lost his right arm. The sensei was dead, spread eagle in a puddle of his own blood. A sword held in the grasp of a mutilated limb sticking out of his chest.

"You've lived too damn long oldman" those were the words of Slade Wilson the third opponent. Deathstroke was taller and more imposing than presented in the movies. And he had both his eyes. He was injured as well and his blade was bloody. He must have been working with the dead sensei. As he was the one to sever Ra's arm.

"You have bitten off more than you can chew boy" Ra's slowly stood to his feet.

Slade wasn't part of the league, he never was. He was a well accomplished, international mercenary. That had a 100% success mission record.

"Lets see about that" they began their tumble. Even with a single arm Ra's held his own against deathstroke. That was until slade dropped smoke pellets around Ra's, taking away his sight. The distinct sound of a helicopter, heralded the whistle of an incendiary missile. _Poor Ra's al Ghul, he's about to be as dead as a doornail._

I know what you're about to ask, but, do I look like a savior? Do you want to know the real reason why ra's was so interested in me? The man wasn't grooming me to be his next successor, he was creating a perfect body for his soul to move into. The pit has become ineffective for him due to prolonged usage, so he now needs a alternative, which is me. Fucked up right? Trying to body jack your own grandson.

 **BOOM!** It was too late for Ra's, the missile turned the lower levels into a blazing inferno, the screams of Ra's al Ghul silenced by the roaring flames.

Deathstroke was hanging by a line wrapped around the railing of an upper building. And then his sight landed on me.

"So you're the little bastard. After I kill you, I'll make good use of the league" he swung from his line and filliped in the air. Landing perfectly on my side of the exit.

"Come boy, I'll send you to your grandfather" he dashed at me.

I swung my sword up _clang!_ jumping away from him when he raised his to guard. I ran through the corridors with him chasing behind me. That was his mistake, because you see this was my house.

I turned a corner and went through a hidden door.

Slade dashed around the corner his sword held defensively.

"Come out boy, I'll make your death quick"

I was above slade, waiting for my shot and exploiting the ceiling glitch.

 _Clang_! he blocked the sword I swung down.

"You should be more silent" he said staring up at me.

I saw my chance.

" _phht"_ I spat out a gust of air.

 _Shuck!_ a poisoned needle lodged itself in his open unguarded eye.

"You underestimate me" I replied, jumping down from the ceiling.

"Argh!" he scream. That poison was a fast acting necrotoxin. It would eat up his eye all the way to his brain if he doesn't isolate the infected regions soon enough. He should realize it. He's a professional.

I made use of the provided opening. My sword slashed across his chest, it should have dug halfway into his body. His thin armor, dampened most of the force behind the fatal strike, leaving only a long gash across his torso.

Slade widened the distance between us, he tossed out black balls that released teargas and smoke. I jumped away, shielding my eyes and nose.

"This just got personal, kid" he said in a gruff angry tone before jumping out the balcony of the building. Blood dripping all the way.

"It got personal the moment you tried killing me." I shot back at him.

He gave me one last look then grabbed onto a wire line dropped from one of his blackhawks, that proceeded to vacate the island. I ran to the exit and watched him leave.

Only two of the original eight blackhawks survived the bombardment from the activated weapon systems.

The atmosphere was filled with smogs of black smoke from the burning wreckage. Craters, scorch marks and dead bodies littered the compound grounds. The shouts of victory resonated, as did the groans of pain and agony, which were soon to be silenced. The weak got culled.

…

Ra's body was charred black to the point where parts of his barebones protruded from his skin. The armor plates and burnt fabric melted over his burnt corpse. The great Ra's al Ghul was now but a wretched corpse. Although you can never have too much power, personal strength is the only thing that truly matters in the end. Look at the man who once controlled armies of lethal fearless assassins, lay here dead, alone.

If he obtained bullet proof skin he would have survived. His martial arts skills were one of the greatest, tempered through the centuries, but look at him here dead. Did his skills stop the bomb? No. Did his breathing techniques make him invulnerable? No. It all comes down to how far you adapt and evolve.

I shook my head and turned to gaze at my mother. She may fool the zealots, but I knew her. She was happy right now. This was her chance to become the head. Let her have it while it lasts, it will become mine in the end.

"Mother, is there no way to revive grandfather?" I intoned with a hopeful tone.

"No, my child. Your grandfather is gone for good, I'm afraid. The pit cannot heal such injuries" she gloomily shook her head and sighed. Yes, that's the woman I learned acting from.

It was but for a moment, our gazes met. We understood each other.

"Come, Damian. I'll have to get you somewhere safe while I settle things here. It's high time you met your father"

"It makes me glad that you think so mother"

* * *

This place is cursed. That was the first feeling I had when we crossed into Gotham, I felt my marks tug along the length of my arm, and an itch at the back of my skull, that was never a good sign. Maybe it's because it's dark, but Gotham felt like it was drowning it's residents in thick viscous ink. The city hugged the shadows and turned the world into a gloomy spiritual grey. I wanted to leave as soon as I came here, but when had I ever run away from my fears? I learned to conquer them. If this city was going to try to kill me, I would subdue it first and turn it into my bitch. I wouldn't allow it to end me, I won't allow it to swallow me. I was going to come out on top.

 _Gotham, You can't kill me, I won't succumb. You will be subdued Gotham, right under my thumb._

Talia was dressed to impress, it was at the level of wow-mom-you're-pretty infatuated-over-Bruce.

So when I stood in the cabin room waiting for Talia's signal, I knew who the other person in the deck was. A man I was certain would be batman. Gotham's savior, and also its destruction.

Batman, was going to destroy Gotham because of his asinine, no-kill policy. Police kill criminals, that doesn't turn them into the same criminals.

Soldiers put down terrorists, that didn't turn them into those same terrorists.

The allied forces killed nazis that didn't make them into new nazis. America ended the second world war, bringing the world into an age of peace, did that turn them into the things they deafeated? I think not. Soldiers f

If you want peace you should be prepared for war, and in wars, blood is always shed. Yes, Gotham is in a state of war. The villains here are terrorists and batman keeps letting them walk the earth.

You can't keep dumping trash in a small can and not expect it to tip over and spill its rot, one day.

It was like the Great and wise **Lucifer** said : " _batman was making better criminals…he was trying to cure cancer with antibiotics."_

Batman, fails, miserably so. Its a future often explored in comics. Because you see, for all his greatness and immense willpower, batman is just a man. And no man is perfect. He can be wrong at times. And in this real flawed world, ideal circumstances as imagined in our heads cannot be expected to exist outside of it.

There's a version of Batman that killed villains, he brought his version of Earth into a golden dawn of peace and prosperity. So when I see this one man keep talking about his no kill rule, it saddens and angers me. He keeps putting people into this perpetual cycle of torture.

I won't lie, the man has a strong will, he has achieved a lot. But killing is as necessary as living. We do it all the time.

"...And your Son" Talia drew the curtain to the side. Hey, villains and theatrics, man. I don't make the rules, I just enforce it.

I walked out from the shadows behind the curtains, with one foot infront of the other I stood before the tall towering imposing figure of a man dressed in bat influenced armor. Well…to be honest I was expecting more. Maybe a glorious scene, you know the kind where, his cape is made up of shadows, his eyes shining with deep demonic red of demons hidden behind the terror inducing cowl. His whole body radiating a fearful devil like aura, that made people feel cold chills in their spines. But, Imaginations can be disappointing when met with reality. Or maybe it's just because I'm quite numb to these sights, I have seen to much unexplainable things, to be really shocked at seeing batman. Batman, was just a very determined man in armor. And if you've seen Tony Stark, then you know he is seriously out gunned and out matched.

"You expect me to believe this?" his tone deep, audible and authoritative.

"I assure you he's yours" Talia answered

To which he snorted. With a gaze as sharp as Ra's, he observed me.

"Don't look so stunned, I imagined you scarier and more imposing" I said.

* * *

 ***Boom! Another chapter to round it all up and make it even.**

 **What do you guys think? Give me your feedback people. Tell me your thoughts in the reviews.**

 **Hit that like and fave button, show some love, no wait that's wrong. Show me your power!**

 **VICTORY!***


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer_ :all characters and mentioned universes belong to their respective owners and/or creators.  
This is a work of fiction.

' _Italics means he is talking to himself /inner voice'_

"inverted commas" means a normal conversation.

* * *

 **MOCKINGBIRD**

* * *

The batmobile was an unreal piece of tech. This one was the version with the longer nose and red tinted bullet proof glass. It must have cost a fortune to build. Not that he couldn't afford it. My family was rich, even without Bruce's side of things.

The league of assassins had to be one of the wealthiest in the world and that was off records. I mean Ra's AL ghul was like a dragon. The man gathered so much wealth over his years of living that it dwarfed that of the Wayne's and Luthor's combined. How else do you fund a global terrorist organization that spans centuries?

We silently sped through the empty roads of gotham, batman's GPS found paths with little to no traffic activity, meaning he could go as fast as he wanted to.

Looking at gotham through the red tinted glass was a sight to behold, the amazing architecture came to live. It was almost too fitting. The tall well lit buildings and glass skyscrapers, caressed the gloomy skies, were draped in red, gargoyles with fearsome expressions, looming over us. It almost seemed like they were crying as rain drops slid down from their hard stony gazes.

The airships as scant as they were, flew from place to place. It gave gotham that unreal modern Gothic feel to it.

I felt something weird.

"~~|~" "hmm?" I snapped my head to the side. I could have sworn I heard a song. No, it was more than a song, there was something else in it, I don't know what. Batman seemed to not have heard it as he had his eyes on the road. The song was indescribable, it sounded like the voice of a concept, maybe it was just a figment of my imagination. I could chalk it up to a weird spiritual phenomenon happening to me, there's nothing I could do about.

I refocused on our path, batman took a series of complex turns and curves that brought us to a deserted bridge looming above a river.

Remember how I talked about instincts, how I had that itch at the back of my head since I came to gotham? Well it just got stronger.

 **BOOM!** A massive shock wave spread out from behind us. The bridge we were driving on began to shake and tumble. Parts of it behind us already breaking apart and falling off.

[Sir, the bridge you're on seems to be collapsing. I'm reading high energy heat signatures most likely the cause of the collapse] a cultured british accent spoke through the on board computers.

"Wired explosives" Batman said in response. "Hang on tight, Damian." webs of cracks spread out in the roads before us. High tension wires snapping and lashing out. Batman pushed a gear all the way forward and click on a red button.

[Rocket boosters at 100%] I was nailed back into my seat as vehicle accelerated, almost flying over the collapsed section before us.

[Warning! Projectiles incoming. Deploying anti missile measur-]

I say almost because while we were in midair missile heads were encroaching on us. The flares deployed by the mobile did what it could to take out as many as it could but this was all happening in mere moments. The white metallic missiles had smiles drawn on them, making them look almost alive as they moved closer. And in the moment it took me to blink and brace myself.

 **BOOOM!** The force of the explosion rattled my being. The vehicle tumbled meters over the unbroken side of the road. Smoke and fire was all I could barely see. My ears ringing. My vision double and blurry. My stomach was churning. The structural integrity of the vehicle no doubt held up to as much damage as it could. But I wasn't even in it.

No I was in a torn out section of the car, with the red reinforced glass over me and still strapped to a tattered seat.

I was still trying to regain my battered senses, when I heard the sound of a _**crack**_ , my face went numb, my head went blank, my sight went rolling. Accompanied by the breaking of glass and the sliding of my body. Then all senses I had regained left me. My eyes began turning dark and heavy. Blood was dripping down the side of my torn head(that's going to leave another scar). I saw the weapon that caused me such damage. A mallet the size of my head, was held in the grasp of a lady dressed in a suit seemed to have been inspired by a checkers board. I saw her lips move in laughter, but I couldn't hear it, all I heard was the ringing. My eyes felt even heavier this time, and before the pain hit me like a literal mallet to head, I used my tongue to secure a tool, my lights went out. I knew trouble would follow me because of my marks but I have to say, _Well played Gotham, well played._

 **/X/**

In the white, meter wide glass box cell. I slowly regain my senses, I roused myself up to the incessant clinks of the fluorescent lighting, matching the painful throb of my head. The wave of heat like that of a greenhouse meant for humans, and the smell of iron so strong that I can taste it.

My hands and feet are weighted down and restrained by iron chains. The only article of clothing on me, are my underwear. My suit and cape tossed to the other side of the messy dilapidated room. Spray painted on the walls are white faces with red mocking smiles.

A man with a moon white skin tone positions various cameras before my cell. He hums a single monotonous tune with a distorted harmony. His ill fitting purple suit in contrast to his green hair.

Once in a while he chuckles to himself and then continues to find the perfect spot for his camera. As if to capture an obsessively symmetrical view of heaven.

He looks up from his work and begin to cackle wildly. Wiping a tear away from his eyes, his mad, mad eyes with bony fingers no different from sticks.

A deranged smile is spread across his rouge lips. A manic, wicked expression is written on his pale, flash frozen grinning face.

He claps once. Malformed men in clown makeup walk in leering, dragging and pushing people into the room. All lined up before my box cell. People of all ages, no older than 50 and no lesser than 10.

Most are crying, and sobbing. The youngest tightly holding on to the arm of woman closing her eyes in prayer. Prayer to a God, asking for deliverance, a miracle.

What do I ask for? I'm I even hoping to be rescued? Is what I ask myself.

The joker's assistant, walks in with a headful of Christmas bells. Her hammer hanging on her shoulders, she looks infatuatedly at the madman.

"Oh my puddin'" Harley Quinn says airily, amongst many of her mumbling. She was cute, as cute as a child swinging a loaded gun or an open razor blade at your unguarded neck.

The screens come to live, as do the cameras and lights. Shining down on my cell, glaring in full force at the now kneeling people.

Batman appears on the screen. His angry gaze so intense I can feel it from here. The clowns take a step back in fear. But the joker laughs. An abomination of the vocal cords, a pitch so hoarse and thin that it grates against the ears.

"Hehahahahaa hahaaaa. Oh, batsboy! The fire in your eyes always enticing! But to important matters batman. Right about now the citizens of our beloved gotham have beautiful toothy grins all over their faces, _sigh_ the things I do to make them laugh" on another screen masses of people begin to claw at their faces, hysterical laughter and screams erupts from multiple screens as they begin to change, joker's trademark grin on their faces.

"But wait! That's just the start of the party batman. Heheheheee heheeee, death comes at midnight batsy"

"Of course no party is complete without…. fireworks! Hehehehe" he walks to the other side of the room where a purple cloth is draped over something. He flashily pulls it off, showing a fat Frankenstein of a dirty bomb. Wires and timers strapped around it like a modern art display. And to top it off, it was encased in a glass box.

That bombed yield would have enough radiation to poison gotham five folds over and render it a barren wasteland.

"So for tonight you all are invited to the joker's egg hunt. Better hurry batman, the clocks ticking" a timer for two hours went up on the screens.

 **|02:00|**

"Oh and I see you picked up another stray. How touching. He doesn't smile much, so why don't we fix that. "

"No!" batman yelled through the screens as a white green gas began to flood my cell. It tasted like acid battery. It smelled like electric vapor. Tears pooled in my burning eyes as I began to cough up a lung. My body went rigidly paralyzed. A smile slowly began to form across my face as my vision blurred. A painful laughter emerged from my protesting lips. " … Hahaha!"

"Heheheheeeeheheee! That's the stuff!" the joker looked at the kneeling terrified people. "I actually no longer have a use for you guys, oh well"

"STOP! Joker!" Batman again yells at him, the joker smiles in response, he pulls out a gun and begins shooting. Starting from the youngster and the praying woman. Metal rods were embedded into their heads with a bang! On each metal rod hung a flag with a "bang" written on it. Their eyes wide open, their bodies still squirming, blood pooled below my cell like spilled red paint.

Harlequin clapped happily. "Puddin, you're so dreamy" she was like a young girl, lost in the wondrous paradise of madness that made up the joker's skewered mindscape.

"Remember batsy, death at midnight"

* * *

 **|1:55|**

"Sir, the toxin was perpetuated through water and air dispersal methods. And from what we could gather it is very fast acting 86% of gotham has been infected" The elderly man dressed in a classic suit tapped on the wide computer, displaying a set of results and statistics.

"The antitoxins?" The larger, taller man in torn armor, asked the other as he entered the cave.

"None seem to be able to combat this new strain. Its mutating, creating new defensive measures to counter whatever we throw at it , but that's the least worrying. This strain of toxin is set to trigger its lethal effect in two hours from now sir. The people will go insane and then "

"Die, I know. Joker is getting serious.

Alfred, we need to find the point of origination, patient zero." Bruce Wayne, peels the broken armor of his body and dons a darker substitute encased in glass.

"Indeed sir" Alfred replies and he begins running checks and calculations.

….

 **|01:40|** _Gotham local hospital._

The thick rains slide through the crevices of the white walls of the building. The sounds of shrill screams and hysterical mad laughter fill the air. The scent of madness and something else, something primal, fear. He smells their fear, it radiates of each one of them like thick pheromones, or perfume. He see the victims strapped to beds, the unaffected of nurses and doctors trying their best to help as much as they can. But their best is not enough, it won't be tonight.

He has got what he came for, another clue to his next destination, he knows the joker didn't work alone on this one and he will find the accomplice. He needs to call Gordon, the gcpd will have to keep the civilians safe while he tries to find a cure.

He presses the earpiece embedded into his cowl, and after the second ring Gordon picks up. But the voice he hears isn't that of Gordon, it's the familiar laughter of the clown.

"Heheheheeeheeheee! Hello bats. I'm afraid your friend Gordon is a little tied up"

"Joker" he says with a menacing tone.

"Correct as always old boy, no cheating this time. Jolly ho, the clock's still ticking" the clown responds jovially as he ends the call.

Batman dials up someone else.

"Nightwing"

"Bruce, I'm on my way there, any minute from now and we'll be past the borders." A hurried voice answers back.

"No, I need you to keep batgirl out. Keep her safe there. I'll handle this" batman answers back calmly.

"Is it that serious. Even if it is you don't have to do this alone, we can help, we're family"

"Keep her out nightwing. Joker's got Gordon. I don't need batgirl getting riled up and irrational" he ends the call.

 **/X/**

 **|01:35|**

"Hahaha! hahahak- _cough_ hahaha!" I laughed hard. Laughed at gotham, laughed at this world. Laughed at my current state. Because even though I was poisoned with the joker toxin, I still retained a 99% control over my mental faculties and although it wasn't the same for my body, I was still getting better. I deduced that it was most likely due to my physiology. I was bathed in the lazarus pit, and during most of my training I had various deadly toxins and poisons introduced to my body, the kinds that had various effects from making you bleed from the eight openings, to making you hallucinate and itch.

Of course, I would then go on to develop immunities to them. That was some of the reasons why I could hold the poisoned needle in my mouth without being affected. Ra's knew of these effects as he too had gone through the same when he bathed in the waters. It gives you a sort of slightly above average healing factor, and adaptability.

So when I laughed, I did it to hide the thin metal I had deposited in my throat earlier today. The venom was still in me, but I was beginning to develop natural antitoxins and the others in me began to cancel it out.

Blood slowly trickled down the sides of my spread lips, coming from a cut in my throat. The laughter had caused the jagged metal to shift.

The joker had grabbed the commissioner Gordon, I don't know when but he had brought him into this room and tied him up to a chair. He was watching batman, like it was all a movie. From the screaming people who were lynching each other, to the kids being trampled. From one edge of Gotham to another. Blood and smiles appeared on each screen. I bent my head in laughter and spit the needle like rod into my palm. Using my blood to draw a smile on the glass, a message. The joker found it amusing.

"You know when I saw you at first, I didn't think you had the potential to be funny. Heheheheeheeeehe, but even old pros make mistakes" he said happily, in his grating voice. And he pumps the chamber with more joker gas, it felt like I was going on a dark acid trip. But you're wrong if you think this little shit would beat my mind when death couldn't. If there's one thing I trust its my willpower and mind fortitude. That wasn't built in a day, I literally walked through purgatory and fought the angel of death with nothing but mental fortitude and willpower. So this is just something temporarily stalling me. The metal in my hand already working around the locks of my restraints.

 **/X/**

 **|01:20|**

"W-who's t-t-there" a man stuttered in fear. His gun trailing from spot to spot. His back soaked in sweat, chills going through his spine. "P-pleas, if y-you'er there p-p-please"

"Doctor" A voice says from the dark. The good doctor's heart nearly gave out from shock. He dropped to his knees holding his heaving chest. "Huuu! Hufff! Huuu!" He took deep breaths. The middle aged man was on the verge of soiling his pants.

"B-batman, he _huu!_ forced me. My family he still has t-them. P-pleas-"

"Calm down doctor. Tell me where the cure is" Batman says.

The doctor quickly nods at the words of the bat and he manages to breathe and calm down.

"There is no cure. I mean there is but it degrades too quickly. It's unstable, the bonding agent is very unstable and shortlasting." The doctor pointed to an open safe where a vial of blue fluid rested.

"What do we need?"

"A regenerative enzyme, a bonding agent, one adapted to human DNA. B-but that would take years if not decades to produce" the doctor said dejectedly.

"We'll find a way" batman says resolutely and left as quietly as he came. Back into the battlezone. Back into the streets of gotham.

"Heheheheeeehee" the doctor begins laughing in terror as blood drains from his face, his mouth like a open fountain of red. He laughs to death.

* * *

 **|00:56|**

The situation in Gotham was turning dire, blazing fires were spreading through neighbourhoods trying to raze them to the ground, the rain helping to fight back its progress. Blood painted the streets red, and laughing people ran about rampant. Shadows swayed to the laughter of the lunatics, the world cried in tears of glass rain.

A laughing giant of a man in a mask jumps down from a high building onto unsuspecting lunatics. That man is bane, and he has been jokerized. But he is not the only one.

Three batarangs stab deep into his flesh. They go _beep!_ And bane is blown back into a concrete wall which collapses on him.

Batman restrains the downed man with special cuffs and hangs him up for the gcpd. Well, after this is done.

Bane is one of many jokerized villains he's faced tonight.

He had to incapacitate jokerized villains who escaped from arkham due to the ensuing chaos. And he is exhausted.

"Alfred, how are we with the cure"

"A work in progress master Bruce. All bonding agents we have introduced haven't been stable enough to utilize and for those that are, have the effect of being too short lasting"

"How are we on that tracker?"

"Joker's location is already found master Bruce. But it seems master Dick will beat you to it, Sir."

"Hghh" batman grunted. "I told him to stay out" He climbed onto his bike and shot off towards the joker's location.

* * *

 **|00:43|**

Greenish red gas once again floods the chamber. The joker has been periodically gassing me with his toxins over the past hour, but this one is different. He poured his thick vicious blood into a vaporizer and attached that to the gas machine. He clicks the button every time he's bored, he's fascinated with me and I know he's doing something to me.

My throat feels raw, I can't sense my taste buds anymore, and my skin had gone slightly pale and so has my sensation senses increased. My eyes were burning, and watering. They seemed almost better now. I say almost because although my sight is blurry, it's not double anymore.

 _ **Crash**_ _!_ Something breaks through the windows. Two humanoid figures. It isn't batman. A man, brown hair, domino mask covers his eyes. Looks to be in his early to mid twenties dressed in a full body suit with the outline of a blue bird printed on his chest. And another, younger girl maybe in her late or mid teens. She's wearing a latex like suit, a mask covers half her face with a yellow bat symbol on her chest. Her eyes widen as they land on the tied up Gordon.

Would it kill them to wear a gas mask. They should clearly know that this place would be booby trapped.

"Breather on" Nightwing tells batgirl who nods. They remove clear gas masks from their belts. How it ever fit their, I don't know. But I am pleased that they at least have the senses to.

He turns his eyes, looking and scanning every part of the building. His jaw tightened when his gaze landed on the fallen bodies of those shot earlier.

"It's over joker" Nightwing said through gritted teeth. As if on signal, Harley Quinn jumps down from her hiding place. Her movements fluid and seamlessly boneless, caused him to paused but for a moment. His well honed instincts kicked in, allowing him to dodge the hammer strike by a hair's breath. The kind of hair's breath that's on a crew cut. The kind where scratches are cut across his face from the thin edges of the mallet, barely missing his head. While Harley is keeping nightwing busy. Batgirl is focused on the joker.

 **|00:36|**

"Hehahahaaa ha haaaaa" the joker laughs as he jumps into action against Batgirl. His moves are telegraphed but erratic and random. Batgirl should have no problem dealing with him, but she's distracted and joker capitalizes on that. "Little ol' Barbra! Hehhahaa" she is further driven into shock. The joker lands a swift haymaker across her face, she stumbles to the wall. Right where nightwing ducks over a hammer swing, which wasn't a swing at all but rather a throw. One that launches the mallet into batgirl's midsection knocking the wind and senses out of her.

Joker slams the soles of his purple shoes into the side of her face. She falls weakly to the floor. Nightwing rushes for her. He shouldn't have done that. Joker clicks a button, balloons filled with concentrated acid fall from the ceiling. They fall and burst over the floor melting it. Nightwing jumps back, right into another fight with Harley who now has a butcher's knife in her hands. The joker point's his long nosed pistol at the back of Batgirl, his eyes mirthful and cunning, he aims lower down her vertebrae. This is where she would've gotten paralyzed, _fuck_ that. My sight cleared. I pushed.

 _ **Crash! Bang!**_ I swing! the chains wrapped around my hands through the glass breaking it. My other hand whips out with a snap. _**Crack!**_ "Owwww! Hehehe that hurt you runt!" the joker's chain whipped hand is bent the wrong way. Batgirl is grunting in pain as a rod is stuck through her left thigh. She's bleeding out. Nightwing occupies Harley who wants to come rescue the joker.

 **|00:34|**

I don't stop moving. In fluid motion, a fist wrapped in chains slams into the joker's solar plexus. "Ugh!"

"Hahah!"I laugh involuntarily. A painful smile is still on my face.

As one is on his. He keels over from the strike. My hands wrap around The back of his green haired head and I introduce his face to my knees. _**Krunch!**_ His bones are quite brittle. He swings a switch blade from his sleeve. I bend back, it thinly slices upward through my upper body. I will commit suicide if I'm defeated by the joker. I've been training all my life, a barely trained, brittle, clown won't beat me. This isn't a comic book, power levels aren't decided by a writer who wants to make a compelling story.

 _ **Krack!**_ Goes his broken wrist. His blade drops into my open, waiting hand. I twist and pull with my left, still holding on to his wrist. He brings his forehead in for a strike aimed at my face. _**Shuckk!**_ What it meets is a blade, now embedded in his forebrain.

 **|00:31|**

"NOOO! Mista J!?" Harley screams in a shrill, damming voice. Nightwing puts away his shock and makes use of the opportunity to down Harley. Joker isn't dead yet, and I'm not done.

I pull out the blade swiftly and begin to viciously stab into his face. From the sides of his temple to his still unbelieveing eye balls. I put all the strength and accuracy I can muster into each of my strikes. His eyes are gone, his face is barely recognizable, his throat a jagged mess of flesh. Grey brain matter and poisonous, toxic blood, stained my hands and the chains around them. My last strike goes through the joker's heart. The Joker is more than dead. The clown prince of crime, taken down by the demon's head. That was a fitting title. A green gas clouds my vision, this one from the joker's dead body. I block my breath. Till it disperses, which was surprisingly instant. Heh, I was already introduced to the high potent toxins, the gas won't be as effective as it should have.

Nightwing is helping Barbara bandage her wound, she's lost too much blood. Gordon is still blindfolded.

And I am sitting over the clowns dead body, almost admiring my handwork. I decide to get a little creative. The switchblade in my hand turns to a brush on the canvas, that is the joker. I turned his smile upside down.

 **|00:29|**

 _ **Crash!**_ (how many windows are there?) I raise my head.

" **NO!** " Something slams to my side. Throwing me off the dead clown's body. I know it's batman, I know his voice.

Nightwing helps me up, his expression is complex. I rise up, a grin is still etched on my face. The chemicals were too much for my body. It would take a while to get myself clean of it, well as much as I could, but I had something for the others. I point to the smile drawn in blood in my cell.

"Cure" I say through a hoarse throat. My body was about to shutoff, it wanted to enter a deep sleep state so I could heal. I knew the joker's fake cure couldn't help batman. He laughed when batman got it from the doctor. He saw it all, and it was part of his plans. My blood before the subsequent introductions of more potent joker toxins had developed somewhat of an immunity.

 **|00:26|**

Nightwing nods in understanding. He takes a swab and test tube from his belt. He rushed over to the broken cell and scrapes the dried blood flakes into the testube. He rushed to batman who is fixated on the joker. I can't hear what they're saying, my ears are ringing and I don't know why, but I can see that they are yelling.

Grayson points to blood in the vial and back to me. Then at the bomb. He had to get the blood to Alfred soon, if not then in less than 20 minutes the people of Gotham will die to joker's toxin. And then the bomb.

 **|00:19|**

He jumped out of the window, probably rushing to get the blood to Alfred.

Batman heads to the encased bomb so he can diffuse it. I was beginning to lose feeling in my left side. And slowly slump down the wall.

From the corner of my eye I could see something slowly sneak towards me.

"Die!" I flicked my hand right at her, _**thuwd!**_ The chain slammed into the side of Harley Quinn's mouth. Her cheek bone was broken as were her tooth rolling across the floor. "Haha!" I chuckled at her as she rolled in agony across the floor. Barbara limped over to harley and clips her hands in cuffs.

Harleys burning gaze is focused on me, I laughed at her even harder "Hahahaa!" I can't stop. Something clicked in her. Through the immense hatred in her eyes, I saw an infatuation, the type I saw when she looked at the joker. Maybe I was just mistaken. But harley was now on my to-kill list.

 **|00:15|**

Batman had only decoded a single timer. He was too distracted by joker's death, time was running out. Batgirl was trying to calm him down, I couldn't hear their words. My ears were still ringing.

I threw a piece of glass to draw their attention. Batman's glare was on me. "hahaha!" I began using my functioning arm to tap in Morse code.

[ **-... .-.. ..- . -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- -. .-. . . -. .-. . -..** ] (BLUE, BLACK, GREEN, RED.)

I had spent hours in here with the bomb, it was more than enough time for me to figure out how to disarm it. I remember when I was locked in a bombshelter with various types of wired bombs. The dirty one was always there as a suprise. Heh, man those were the days.

Bruce understood my code but his gaze still lingered on me. Well I would too if the bomb disarm sequence was wrong we would all die. But he nodded and went back to cutting. Of course he ran his own calculations on my results, this is batman he won't just give you a 100% of his trust. I was losing feeling in my right side as well. My body was warming up. My headache was back in full force. Slamming at my head like Harley's mallet.

And in less than moments, I was out and paralyzed. _Fuck you too Gotham._

 **/X/**

 **|00:5|**

"Master Bruce, we were able to synthesize a working antidote from his blood. Master dick is already on his way to the hospitals. The air dispersal systems are online as well. Shall we disperse the cure now?" Alfred asked looking at the computer

"Yes Alfred do it now." Bruce answered tiredly.

He looked at the cold brutalized, dead body of the clown, his greatest nemesis laid over a table barely recognizable. All his mad splendor, his manic grin gone, his body now a true pale of death.

And then at his son, a son who he just met today, a son who was laid in a recuperative pod, trying to recover from a coma induced by all the joker toxins flooding his system. It could take months, or even longer.

He grabbed his vial of antidote and hopped onto his bike, going back out into Gotham. He had people to save. Gotham was in need and batman would always be there for her.

Alfed turned from the computers, he gaze lingered on the exit of the cave and then past the body of the clown, barely dwelling on it. What he focused on was the boy. For his first day in Gotham, he was presented with its most horrific. But he survived. A smile slowly spread on his face, he knew that the boy had a fighter's spirit in him, he was his father's son after all, and Waynes hardly ever gave up.

* * *

 **XX**

* * *

"Heheheeeee heheeehe" The mad clown trudged on the rocky mindscape. Climbing higher and higher. This was his essence, his consciousness looking for the boy's central cortex so he could fully rewrite it as the final joke. He was dead and he knew that, he was never coming back, but maybe, just maybe he could work through the runt. Rewrite his mind, turn him into another joker. That was the essence of the gas and blood. He, no, it was just a personification of the clown.

He walked up to an unguarded door. "hahahahehheeeeeheee" that was a big mistake on the runt's part. No one leaves their mindscape unguarded. Joker pushed open the door and walked in.

Darkness so thick that he could feel it restrict his movements.

" **Welcome** " was all he heard in the dark. Horror caused him to shake, primal fear paralyzed him.

The clown turned back around in terror. This wasn't! No! Humans couldn't be this way! This was something otherworldly! He tried to run. Hands held onto every inch of his body, holding him in place "No! Please stop! No! WHAT ARE YOU!?" the clown clawed, cried and screamed.

" **You can enter, but you can't leave** " the hands dragged him into the darkness. And they ripped him apart. The screams of the clown, were silenced by the unknown.

" **delicious** " said the voice, as the darkness thickened. In the heart of **darkness** , the deepest of its parts, sat a man in a throne of solidified shadows. The spiral marks on his arm moving in a constant rhythm. Like a heartbeat.

 **/XX/**

It had been three weeks since Damian got into a coma. Barbara would occasionally drop by to converse with the unconscious Damian, that was his name she learned it after that night. She knew he couldn't hear her, but Dick said it would help in his healing. So here she was again, talking to an unconscious person. It was not as bad as it seemed actually, he was a good listener so Barbara could talk for minutes on end without ever being interrupted.

That was until the monitors began to beep louder and his eyelids slowly parted, his eyes fully displayed.

' _You don't fuck with my mind or soul. I am King over it'_

(*Try messing with ZOD*)

* * *

 ***BOOM! HOW MANY SAW THAT COMING? WHAT A TWIST!**

 **DAMIAN HAD THE** _ **GREATEST**_ **INTRODUCTION TO GOTHAM ANYONE COULD EVER ASK FOR.**

 **Even he couldn't have seen that coming. What a wonderful first day in gotham. What a powerful mental fortitude and soul! Well you don't get to spend God knows how long in purgatory fighting against your own death without it.**

 **And the clown prince of crime is dead. What an accomplishment! All in one day.**

 **Hit that like, follow and fave if you enjoyed the story and would like to see more. Leave dem reviews! I read each and everyone of em. So keep em coming.**

 **Wishing you all a blessed day.**

 **-** _ **hero**_ **Out.**

 **Wait! This question just popped into my head. Who do you guys think would win in a fight between super soldiers.**

 **Master Chief(John 113) of halo VS Captain America (Steve Rogers) of marvel.**

 **I know, it's insane!**

 **VICTORY!***


End file.
